


The Slip-Up

by ThePandoricaWillOpen



Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-19
Updated: 2016-07-19
Packaged: 2018-07-25 08:11:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,079
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7525027
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ThePandoricaWillOpen/pseuds/ThePandoricaWillOpen
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Five times that the team walked in Bucky and Steve and the one time Steve realized they had always been a thing.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Slip-Up

**Author's Note:**

> It started as a prompt (Hair) and ended up as this. Not Beta'd. Enjoy.

_Natasha Romanoff_

It had only taken one slip up - one accidental lack of control -  and Natasha’s eyes narrowed marginally and a knowing smirk replaced her usual blank expression.

Ever since Bucky had come out of cryo, they had been hiding out in different safe houses set up by either Natasha, T’Challa or, on occasion, Tony. This time it had been Natasha who had insisted on meeting them at the house to catch up. They’d taken to using commercial flights using fake names and passports that Bucky acquired for them through means that he told Steve not to worry about.

“They’re good fakes and I didn’t even have to kill the guy,” Bucky told Steve as he inspected a handful of passports. “Just pick who you wanna be and let’s go.”

Steve had only shrugged and picked one at random before they were off to a new place. They were together, finally, and that’s all that mattered now. So when they got the call from Natasha that she’d secured a place for them, they gathered their stuff, bought some plane tickets and settled in for a four hour flight then a two hour lay over to their new home.

Neither supersoldier slept the whole trip, the sound of the engines and too many heartbeats with too many possible attack points left them both paranoid to close their eyes. When they finally arrived, it was the middle of the night and by then, with nearly ten hours of being unable to touch each other, Steve was anxious to get home to be able to touch Bucky who was restless, eyes skittering about, at his die. They wouldn’t dare touch in public, lest someone recognized them and snap a picture of them. Once in private however… Steve intended to make Bucky purr.

Natasha texted them an address with detailed instructions on how to get in and what the passcode to the security system was. Even sleep (and touch) deprived, the two soldiers made it to the home the long way, taking long routes, before getting out and scouting the neighbourhood and the house itself.

“Nothing,” Bucky said after his third walk around the neighborhood. His hands tucked in his front pockets, hoodie pulled over his head. His hair fell across his forehead, framing his eyes. His blue eyes shone in the light, taking Steve’s breath away and distracting him from the mission. Bucky tilted his head, furrowing his brow. “You okay, Stevie? Did you see something?”

“I’m just tired,” Steve replied, shaking his head, a smile playing on his lips. “You’re goddam beautiful, ya know that?”

Bucky chuckled. “So, you’ve told me before.”

“Maybe not enough times.”

“Say it one more time.”

“James Buchanan Barnes you are so goddam beautiful.” Steve reached out, putting his hands on Bucky’s hips and pulling him close. Bucky removed his hands from his pockets and wrapped them around Steve’s neck and let smiled. “I can’t wait to get you - “

“Hello, boys.” The soldiers pulled apart instantly as Natasha walked toward them, a smirk on her red lips. She walked towards them with a confident stride, her hair flowing in the wind like a model straight out of a photo shoot. “I was just wondering if you guys were ever gonna come inside.”

Natasha smirked.

And Steve knew he would never hear the end of this. At his side, Bucky just smiled, running a hand through his hair as he pulled off his hoodie. He turned to walk across the street while Steve remained, waiting for Natasha to say something. One… Two… And -

“So, you’re not ready for a lip ring but a metal arm is a-okay? Good to know.”

* * *

_Sam Wilson_

Sam visited them once in awhile, dropping by when he could to check in on them. He was a mother hen, worried that being alone together without dealing with the pain of their past could cause them serious trouble. He would called Bucky once a week, knowing that out of the two of them, Barnes would be the one to tell him straight up if something was going on. Steve wasn’t a good liar but when it came down to it, the man could swindle a granny out of her pants if he wanted to.

It was that All-American look, Sam was convinced of it. One crooked smile and a wink from those puppy-dog eyes and anyone - really, _anyone_ \- was a goner.

So when he called Barnes’ phone and received no answer, he immediately grew worried. For an almost one-hundred year old fossil, Barnes had adapted quickly to the technology of the century, unlike _someone_ else he knew.

Seriously, Steve would still forget to carry his phone when he left the store. Once he was gone for so long that the Avengers assembled to find him, convinced that he’d been grabbed by Hydra only to find him sitting in a park drawing birds! And yet, Barnes never seemed to be without his phone. Even going as far as setting up social media accounts under aliases just to ‘keep tabs on stuff, for science.’ More like ‘for shits and giggles’ Sam thought as he added Barnes - or Yasha, as was his internet alias, - on Facebook and scrolled through a few dozen grumpy cat posts.

(He also friended him on Instagram and found out that Barnes was a pretty good photographer, not that he would ever admit that out loud. To anyone. Ever.)

Which meant something had happened because Barnes never let his phone ring past the second ring. Barnes never let his phone go to voicemail. Especially not after ten calls from Sam. Something was wrong.

Sam borrowed one of T’Challa’s planes, having become great friends with the King after escaping the floating prison that held him, and headed to their last known location, courtesy of Natasha. She had given this the location only after making him promise not to call her after he found them. He'd found that strange but then again, Window was one helluva scary assassin so it went without saying that Sam was a tiny bit afraid of the redhead.

Cautiously, Sam headed to the location in what seemed to be goddam Suburbia in the middle of nowhere. It was the complete opposite of what Steve and Bucky had grown up in. Completely going against what Sam would have guessed. Goddam, Natasha was good at this. Maybe he should get her to pick out a safe house for him, for that just in case moment.

He rented a car and drove it around the suburb, circling the block that supposedly housed the two men. He didn't see any movement within after the second time so he parked a few blocks away and made his way to the house. He pulled down his hoodie, trying not to look too suspicious to anyone who might be looking.

He knocked once and waited. Nothing. He called Barnes’ phone and listened to hear the ring from inside. Nothing. He knocked again, louder. Time to break in, he decided. He looked around the ground, looking for a rock or something that- aha!

“Scott would be so proud,” he said to himself as he kicked a stone over with his foot to reveal a key. “I'm a pro at this!”

He bent down to picked up the key when he heard a sound within. Sam shrugged. Fuck it, he thought to himself as he knocked once more.

“Yo! Anyone in there?” He called out.

He heard someone say his name and footsteps approaching. He waited, watching as someone turned on a light and open the door. It was Barnes. With no shirt on. With nothing but pants. Hanging low on his hips. Shirtless. As in: naked torso twinkling in the moonlight.

“Hey,” Barnes said, his deep voice snapping Sam out of his thoughts. “What’re you doing here?”

“I've been calling, man. I was worried,” Sam said, keeping his eyes leveled on Barnes’ face and nowhere else. Absolutely nowhere else. His mind was not going places that it wasn’t supposed to go to. Nope. “What the fuck y'll been doing? For the last fifteen hours that didn't let ya pick up the damn phone and -”

Sam stopped and stared as Barnes pulled his hair back from his face, revealing some bruising on his neck. Sam narrowed his eyes, trying to figure out if they were hand marks or - _Ah. Damnit._

“You know what? I don't wanna know!”

“What? What don't you -”

“I don't wanna know, man!” He turned away, shaking his head. Nope, nope and nope! Damn Widow set his ass up! He stopped, turned back to Barnes and handed him the key. “Hide your key better. I almost walked in on you two!”

He heard Barnes chuckle as he turned back to the street, walking as fast as he could walk without breaking into a run. He was happy for Cap, Barnes too, but Sam had a good imagination and his brain so did not need the image of Steve and Barnes in bed together. Possibly naked. Alone. Muscles everywhere. Nope.

Before he was out of earshot, he heard Barnes call out, “It's no one! Go back to bed, Stevie!”

Sam broke into a run all the way back to his car. He smiled widely and thought: _at least they are finally together. If anyone deserves happiness, it's them two._

He got into his car and decided it was time to talk to a certain King about certain feelings some people may or may not have.

* * *

_Clint Barton_

Okay. Very few people could claim that Clint wasn’t observant - at least not without having Natasha throw daggers at them with her startling green eyes. She was good at that - shutting people up with one look. Clint could do it too, with an arrow in the forehead, but that was rude according to Nat so he didn’t do it. While Cint seemed like a goofball, an act he had crafted from his time in a traveling circus, he saw everything. He might not be a super soldier or have been trained in Russia, and he might have hearing aids that he turned off constantly, but if it was one thing he prided himself in was being observant.

Which is why it took him by complete surprise to walk into Steve’s floor at the Avenger’s Tower and see Captain America cuddling The Winter Soldier. It was only a little weird to have the two men in the tower after being on the run for a year before everything chilled out. Hell, Clint even came out of retirement (again) to help them move in. He had carried all two boxes of stuff they had collected and a shit ton of art supplies, wiped his totally dry brow, and then proclaimed it to be their first Family Movie Night since they finally had their family together.

But now, _now_ he was regretting the excitement. He let out a (totally manly) squeal which alert them to his presence. Steve shot up, his perfect face covered in a deep red blush that ran down his neck and into that tight shirt of his.

Clint stared at him, wide-eyed. He just wanted coffee, goddamit! He even had his own coffee pot, his _favourite_ coffee pot, and, instead of making a black gooey caffeine mess in Cap’s pristine kitchen, he had walked into a cuddling session with American’s Man With A Plan and An Amnesiac Russian Assassin.

Well, okay, then. The more Clint stared at them, the more things started to make sense. Yeah, okay. The casual touches, the reassuring pats on the back and the long staring contests suddenly made a heck of alot more sense… So maybe Clint wasn’t as observant as he thought he was around his friends. _I haven’t had nearly enough coffee for this._

“H-hey, Clint,” Steve said, raising his hand to rub the back of his neck. “What’s - What’s up?”

Clint lifted up his left hand, coffee pot clenched between his fingers. “Coffee.”

The Winter Soldier, Barnes, sat up on the couch, running a hand through his long hair, and said, “Help yourself, bro. Steve just bought this Colombian blend that’s right up your alley.”

“Up … my alley,” Clint repeated, his lips pulling up in a smirk.

Steve coughed. “It’s real good.”

Clint watched the two men. Steve’s blush was still raging hard while Barnes smirked from the couch, clearly enjoying seeing Steve get embarrassed. It was probably Steve who had forgotten to tell FRIDAY to restrict access to their floor and, Clint betted that the moment he left, Steve was gonna get an earful of “I told you so” from his best friend. Cuddle buddy. His lover.

“Nah, I’ll just, um, leave you two to it.”

“See ya, Clint!” Barnes called out, undisturbed at Clint’s abruptness, reaching out for Steve with his flesh arm and pulling him back down to the couch.

Clint stood there for a few more seconds, looking between the two soldiers and snickered. _Wait till Natasha gets a load of this. Aw, ew, load._ He turned away as Barnes reached for a still blushing Steve, pulling him down on the couch.

_Okay, go faster feet. Run! Eyes don’t wanna see naked grandpas going at it! I just wanted coffee, man._

He pulled out his phone, dialing Natasha as he headed to the elevator and down to his floor. _Jesus, that was close. Next time, Ima call ahead or else - brain, no, ew. Don’t go there. Ever._

“You owe me twenty bucks, Nat,” he said into the phone as he pressed the button on the elevator. As the doors closed, he yelled into the phone: “WHADDYA MEAN YOU KNEW?”

* * *

_Pepper Potts_

After the whole Accords disaster, Pepper had decided that she hated living with the Avengers. Not the superheroes who fought battles against aliens, robots, robot aliens but the private individuals that they were. Having so many super powered, highly trained and deadly people in one place, sometimes at one time, was a lot to handle. Everyone had their own trauma and, having their entire team under one roof ended in too many possible triggers.

But Tony, mother hen that he secretly was, gave each of them their own private lofts, their own things and the ability to use Stark funds to acquire more. Pepper was fine with that, hell, sometimes Tony was too generous, too scared to loose his newfound family if he denied them anything. He didn’t want to loose his family again, not for a third time.

Pepper loved Tony, she did. And she understood his anxiety and panic over… well, everything that had happened over the last year and a half. And even before that. Pepper knew, Pepper understood _now_ how much pain Tony was hiding from them all. How much pain he still refuses to confront because he has to be the strong one, the one with the answers to all the questions.

And she knew that, having the man who killed his parents living in his tower couldn’t be easy, and she respected him immensely for trying to help Sergeant Barnes get better both mentally and physically, but she was also the one who got midnight calls from Tony after a nightmare. Alerts from both FRIDAY and Vision about Tony not eating, sleeping or taking breaks from work. She was the one who calmed him down after waking up from a nightmare, after seeing The Winter Soldier kill his parents in his head, the video replaying in his brilliant mind over and over and over again until he couldn’t breath. Until a brilliant, caring and utterly beautiful man was reduced to one syllable words and sniffling noises.

A year later and the nightmares persisted as did the calls and alerts. But Tony was going to therapy, seeking the help that he needed, and she had Barnes to thank for that. Which is how she found herself in the elevator going up to Steve’s loft in search of him. Tony had given him his own apartment but, according to FRIDAY, he barely went into it. He was currently in Steve’s place so, after telling FRIDAY to alert them that she would be coming up, she headed up to the floor.

The doors slid open and she stepped out, walking into a brightly lit hallway. There were pictures hanging on the walls, paintings and sketches that Pepper didn’t recognize. She stopped to look at one of a ferris wheel against a startling moonlit backdrop. It was gorgeous. The way the wheel popped out against the dark night and twinkling stars, the almost dream-like quality it possessed took her breath away.

“Steve painted that.” Pepper turned around sharply, finding Sergeant Barnes standing behind her, his hair pulled into a bun that rested against his the back of his neck with only a few strands to decorate his face. He arched an eyebrow back to the painting and said, “It’s one of my favourites. He painted after we went to Chicago and rode on that big ferris wheel they got over by the lake.” He let out a small whistle. “It was good wheel but Stevie makes it look like a million and one bucks.”

“It’s amazing,” Pepper agreed. “I didn’t know Steve had started to draw again.”

“Yeah, well,” he rubbed the back of his neck and looked away. “I kinda made him at first. Tryna get him to talk about stuff is hard but painting, sketching and drawing comes easy to him so I told him to draw me what he felt and… well, he hasn’t stopped. Mostly, he paints me memories that I’ve forgotten, tryna get me to remember. It works too. I think it helps him more than me, though.”

Pepper looked at Barnes, _really_ looked at him. There was a light blush colouring his cheeks and his right hand pulled at the ends of his shirt almost as if he was embarrassed to have shared so much. He had a goofy smile, the corners of his lips turning up as he stared at the painting hanging on the wall. Pepper knew that look. Pepper knew that look very well.

“Care to escort me around this fine art gallery you’ve got here, Sargent?” Pepper asked.

“I’ll be happy to but only if you call me Bucky.”

“Well then,” Pepper said with a smile, accepting Bucky’s arm as he offered it. “Lead the way, Bucky.”

He led her around the apartment, stopping at each art piece that hung on the walls. He had a story, a fond memory, of each one of the pieces. Recalling events both from their time on the run and from their childhood. By the time he'd walked her through the hallway and into the living room and towards hall that led to the bedroom, Pepper had learned a lot. She noticed that Steve was never present, always just a spectator even in drawings of the Commandos or the Avengers. She asked Bucky who has only shrugged.

“He’s shy,” he told her. “Won't even take a selfie with me.”

“Well, what about you?” Bucky titled his head. She looked around the apartment and asked, “where are you in these memories?”

“Right next to him,” Bucky said as if it was the most obvious thing on the world. “Always.”

Pepper smiled and tried again, “does he ever paint you?”

“Um, yeah. Yeah, he’s painted me before. But he doesn't like hanging those up.”

“Why not?”

Bucky rubbed the back of his neck. “He doesn't - doesn’t want me on display. Says I’ve been scrutinized enough by… you know, everyone.”

“He really loves you, doesn't he?”

Bucky smiled a goofy smile again and whispered, “yeah. But I’ve always loved him more.”

Pepper nodded. She thanked him for showing her around, promised to drop by more often and said her goodbye.

“Wait,” he called out as she walked to the elevator. “FRIDAY said you wanted to talk.”

She shrugged. “Just wanted to thank you. For Tony. I don't know how you did it but he's talking to someone, getting help. So, thank you, Bucky.”

“I- I like Tony. I just wanted to help.” His smile faltered, his body adapting a rigid pose.

“And you did.” Pepper reassured him with a kind smile. “I won’t ask how or why, just thank you.”

He nodded and she walked away, getting into the elevator. With one final look at Bucky, she pressed the elevator to Tony’s floor. The last thing she saw before the doors close, was Bucky staring at the ferris wheel painting, his metal arm reaching out to touch the surface of it. Pepper smiled and said, as the door shut, “FRIDAY, get me Tony on the line please.”

“Yes, Miss. Potts,” the AI said.

“Pep? What's wrong?” Tony’s voice filled the elevator. “You okay?”

“Let's have a late lunch,” she said. “Maybe some shawarma?”  

“Ummm, yeah okay,” Tony said something crashed on the floor. “One hour?”

“One hour,” she confirmed.

“Dum-e! Find me a tie!” She heard him yell as the call cut off.

She laughed to herself and wondered if Tony ever talked at her the way that Bucky talked about Steve. In her heart of hearts, she knew he did and that, with time, she would show Tony how much she cared about him too.

* * *

_Tony Stark_

Tony was a good man, an honest and generous and devilishly handsome man. He knew this. It was a fact that he made sure got into the history books right after _Playboy billionaire philanthropist_. He didn't like to toot his own horn - oh, who is he kidding, of course he did! Just not in his head, only out loud with a room full of people.

Privately, Tony was riddled with anxiety and panic, with insecurities that he hide behind a cocky smile and a sarcastic attitude. He only let a few people inside his head: Bruce and Pepper and now, his therapist. Sometimes Sam because, for a man who put on wings for a living, Sam was a very smart man. It had been Sam who had first suggested that he sit down and speak with Barnes ( _or metal arm hipster,_ as Tony liked to refer to him).

At first he had resisted. He didn't need therapy, he didn't need to talk to Barnes and work shit out. He was okay. He was fine. He was _dealing with it_.

Except … He wasn't.

He really wasn’t.

He wasn’t dealing with it, not on the inside.

Not where it mattered.

Outside, he put on a smirk and pretended he was fine, brushed off any and all attempts to talk about how tired he looked, how skinny he’d become, how sad his eyes were. The last one was from Wanda, it had hurt more than anything Barnes’ metal arm could dish out. She never asked him if he wanted her to help. She never pried. Never gave him pitying looks. She brought him food, snacks and joke books because … because… well, he didn’t know but he loved her nonetheless.

Eventually, she started to bring enough for the two of them and they would eat together. She was a very a smart and curious woman, someone he would love to have work for him.  If there was something that Tony wished with all of his heart, it was that Wanda and her brother, Pietro, lived long and happy lives. He wanted them to have the life that he couldn’t have, surrounded by people who would die to protect them. Tony would, he would die to protect the ones he loved and the Avenger’s Tower sure was full of them. Wanda, well, she was young, too young to be brought into the world of Avenging and too young to be sucked into a life like Tony’s.

He’d been a workaholic for the last few years, mostly due to the Iron Man suits. He couldn’t stop developing, adapting his suits to new environments, new discoveries. He needed to feel _useful_ . He never again wanted to feel _trapped_ , unable to live his life the way he wanted to. And this is how he wanted to life his fucking life, okay, Brucey!

A small part of him knew that, having been taken hostage and never working out that trauma before being thrusted into the public superhero life, was a bad life choice. The worst, really. And he knew that that had fucked him up majorly. He knew that. He was smart. He had many doctorates to prove that.

And then, he had almost died trying to save the world from … well, he hadn’t had the best of luck and it wasn’t about to change considering the man who had killed his parents lived just a few floors from his office. A man who he allowed into his tower, his safe haven, because … well, he wasn’t sure why exactly. It sure wasn’t because Barnes had a sparkling personality that attracted everyone to him. Well, maybe attracted Clint. But Clint was attracted to shiny things so he didn’t count.

Everything aside, Barnes wasn’t all that bad. He was sarcastic, charming and, sometimes, downright lewd. They might have been close friends in another life.

But they lived in this life and seeing Barnes happy - smiling with Steve, his eyes lighting up life Steve was his whole fucking world - was unfair. Tony had lived without his parents - without his _mom_ \- for years. He had lost everything that night in December, his whole world had been taken apart and reassembled with broken pieces. His entire being had been pulled apart, atom by atom. He would never get that back. He would gladly give up all of his money, his suits, his intelligence so his mother would return to him. So that he could wake up from this nightmare that he’d been trapped in for the last two decades.  

But it wasn’t a nightmare. It was reality.

And here was the metal arm bastard who had done it and Tony could barely look at his hipster ass without reminding himself that he couldn’t be friends with him, no matter how much he might want to. Steve deserved happiness. Barnes… Well, Tony hadn’t decided yet.

Okay, so maybe Tony did need to see someone about his unresolved issues. But it would be one cold day in hell when he talked to Barnes about it.

That cold day ended up being the hottest day ever. The city was practically melting on the other side of the window in Tony’s lab. Thank goodness for the temperature control recycled air that circulated the tower or else Tony would have to change out of his Armani suit and he really, really, didn’t wanna do that. It was purple, he looked real sharp in purple.

He was walking out of his office, a bag of grapes dangling from his fingers as he fiddled around with his Stark Phone when he heard someone call out his name. He turned, his phone providing enough distraction that he didn’t register the voice before turning around and seeing steel blue eyes and a man bun walking toward him. He put his phone away, taking a grape and popping it into his mouth as Barnes caught up to him.

“Hey.”

Tony rolled his eyes. “Hey,” he repeated. When Barnes didn’t continue he said, “Do you have something to say? Cuz I’ve got about a dozen things I have to do before lunch and seeing as it’s almost dinner, I kinda have to hurry up.”

“I wanted to say thank you for keeping Steve safe while I was - “ Barnes blinked a few times before settling on a word - “gone.”

“I -”

“He told me what you did for him,” he continued. “He’s always been stubborn so I hope you didn’t take anything he said personally.”

“I don’t -”

“And thank you for, well, for letting me stay here.” Barnes took a step back, slipping his hands into his front jean pockets. “There is nothing I can do to make up for what I did. I know that. But I’ll die trying to make it up to you anyway I can. Steve considers you a friend. You were there when I couldn’t be… I just-”

“If you thank me one more time,” Tony interrupted, his hands going numb from how hard he was gripping the bag of grapes. It was a miracle that the bag was still intact. “Ima think you’re sweet on me, Barnes.”

Barnes coughed, ignoring Tony’s attempt to lighten the mood. “Yeah, well. I know what it feels like to lose everything you hold dear. When I, um, woke up after I fell, they, um, used Steve’s death against me. Made me believe that he was gone, that I’d killed him myself. That I’d … I’d killed the only person who ever loved me.” He blinked a few times, taking a few deep breaths before continuing. “That’s how they broke me. After that, I was willing to do anything to stop the pain. It was easier for them to torture and condition me if I stopped fighting them. I - I had no reason to live without Steve.”

“I don’t, um, I don’t understand,” Tony said after a few seconds.

“I just want you to know that I’m sorry. If I’d fought them longer, If I’d never given up, then maybe your parents would still be alive. All those people I killed, would still be alive.”

Tony didn’t know what to say. And that in itself was rare. He looked down the bag of grapes in his hand and slowly, held it out. “Grape?”

Barnes smiled and taking his flesh hand out of his pocket and reaching out to get one. They stood there awkwardly for a few seconds - though for Tony it felt like years - until Barnes’ phone rang. He pulled it out of his pocket and said, “Steve’s on his way home.” He paused and then added, “I made dinner, if you want to join us.”

Tony shook his head. “Got lots of things to, um, finish. Yeah.”

So, maybe, that cold day in hell which was actually a really warm day, turned into the day that Anthony Edward Stark - genius, billionaire, playboy, philanthropist - finally decided it was time to organize the mess that the last few decades had caused in his mind palace. He pulled out his phone, scrolled down his contacts and dialed.

“Hey, Brucey! I know - I know, how the hell did I get a phone on your pack? Magic, that’s how. Listen, do you have the number of the doctor you mentioned …”

* * *

_(+1) Steve Rogers_

The realisation that he was in love with his best friend came crashing to him the moment Bucky’s hand slipped and he fell down into the Russian tundra. It rushed to him, slapped him on the face, kicked him in the chest and screamed at him until his ears rang. He felt paralysed, unable to do anything as the train sped away going further and further from Bucky. God, he’d been a complete idiot. And it had taken Bucky yelling his name, his arms reaching out for him as he fell for Steve to finally realise that he loved James Buchanan Barnes.

Years later to the outside world but only a few weeks for Steve, he was woken up and the empty feeling of his chest, the one that screamed for Bucky, remained. He went through the motions of living. He boxed just like Bucky had taught him when they were kids. (Except now he went through three or four punching bags before his heartbeat even began to sped up.) And he caught up on current culture with Natasha in between training sessions. (He was sure that Bucky would love science fiction.) The rest of the time… he just survived.

It wasn’t until he found Bucky again that his heartbeat picked up, that his adrenaline pumped through his veins like never before. He felt like he’d just been electrocuted, every nerve ending erupting until he felt every sensation known to man.

Steve changed after that moment on the bridge and then on the helicarrier.

Steve began to live. He began to sketch. The first sketchbook he filled was full of drawings of Bucky in various stages of his life. Bucky laughing, his face scrunched up and his eyes wrinkling at the sides. Bucky in his best clothes. Bucky in his uniform. Bucky with his hair disheveled. Bucky with water running down his chest from that time they went to take a swim. Bucky. Bucky. Bucky.

And then suddenly, Bucky was there in front of him in a shotty apartment in Bucharest. And it felt like he’d never left. Sure, he was more quiet than before but after everything he’d gone through, Steve had expected it. It was Bucky, _his_ Bucky and that’s all that mattered. He would hold on and never let go, not this time.

The best part of living with Bucky - of _being_ _with_ Bucky - was that nothing really changed. After running away together to Wakanda, things had just clicked. It was as if no time had passed between them. Sure, there were more things to go around, more triggers to learn and work through, but having Bucky near him, being able to touch and feel him near, was motivating enough that Steve found himself going to the VA with Sam every few days.

Sometimes Bucky would join them, hat pulled forward and hands tucked into his jeans, and listen. Those nights Steve would wrap his arms around Bucky, whisper against his chest that he was proud of him. _So, so very proud, Buck._

There was one thing that had changed. Well, not changed more like taken to the next level. They had always been very tactile, never ones to shy away from a comforting touch. Bucky especially. There wasn’t a time in Steve’s life that he couldn’t remember Bucky’s warm arm around his shoulder or his hand on the small of his back. Steve had been too caught up in his tirade against the unjust world to see that Bucky had always had his back. But he realised it now and he hoped his life lessons with Natasha proved useful as he began to woo Bucky Barnes.

In the end, he didn’t even need to woo Bucky. Steve had tried several tactics from subtle flirting to light touches to outright proposals that had Bucky smiling like it was Christmas. Whatever he tried, Bucky just gave him a fond smile or one of his scrunchy face laughs before making a suggestion or a flirtation of his own that left Steve blushing hard. It seemed like Steve was not meant to woo anyone, not when he resembled a tomato.

Until one week before Natasha was supposed to relocate them back to the States. They were watching a movie together on the couch, each on either ends. Bucky got up to use the bathroom and Steve reached over to get the remote to pause the movie while he was gone.

He paused it just as the main character was looking up at the sky full of twinkling lights, her green eyes wide with wonder. At her side was her love interest, a charming character that reminded Steve of the old Bucky, hair, cocky attitude and all. The way that Flynn looked at her, the love in his eyes, made Steve wonder if he looked at Bucky the same way that Flynn looked at Rapunzel.

He didn’t see or hear Bucky return, his thoughts far away, until he threw himself on Steve’s lap, his head on his thighs and looked up at him. Steve jumped and looked down at his lap, his hand automatically coming to tangle themselves in Bucky’s hair. Bucky arched an eyebrow as if asking if this way alright. Steve’s heart was beating rapidly in his chest as he leaned down and kissed Bucky’s forehead before reaching for the remote and turning the movie back on.

And it was like nothing had changed.

Except that everything had and he finally had Bucky.

And Bucky had him.

And Steve wasn’t letting Bucky out of his sights until they were old and grey. And even then, death would have to fight Steve in order to get to Bucky because, goddammit did Steven Grant Rogers love James Buchanan “Bucky” Barnes and there was nothing on earth (or in all the realms) that was going to keep them apart anymore.

 

The End.


End file.
